Closing Time
by frosty wonder ice
Summary: (Discontinued) AU - Taito - Idea from the Semisonic song Closing Time - There is more to life than every day routines.
1. Closing Time

Hm… It has been a while since I last posted a fanfic… I hope I do not displease anyone…

Anywho, this fanfic does not mesh well with the Japanese culture. I believe the legal age to drink alcohol is different in Japan, but if I did not use the legal age where I live, then there would not be a fic to write (at least not with the ages I want and how I want). I do know that the legal age of consent is different in Japan (way different), but, again, I am using it where I live (which is eighteen) to support the fic.

Forgive me?

(Standard Disclaimer Applies)

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Ishida Yamato took a quick glimpse at his wristwatch, wondering how the hours seemed to fly by in a matter of minutes. He sighed, lifting his eyes to the few people scattered throughout the tavern. As he did so, he caught the attention of a few, but they shifted in their seats so they would not have to look at him. Typical.

"Are you about to close up?"

Glancing sideways, Yamato nodded at the dark-haired man who was leaning over the counter and filling his glass with an orange-colored cocktail. Yamato reached over and shut off the nozzle, giving the man an irritated glare. The man smirked at him and sipped lightly at the drink, eyes watching Yamato over the edge of the glass.

"All right," Yamato called, stepping through the small swinging door that led behind the marble counter… and to all the alcohol. He noticed that the people were now trying to talk louder so they could pretend like they did not hear him. "Closing time."

There were a few protests, and one man even begged for Yamato to fill his glass once more, but most grudgingly got out of their seats and reached for their coats hanging beside the big, wooden door. Yamato had to shake one woman awake and help her into her coat, wondering absentmindedly if she would make it home _alive_.

A man that appeared much older than he should have stared at Yamato from the corner of the tavern, lazily lying on the cushions of the corner booth. Yamato ignored him for now, too busy making sure everyone else left, but was aware of the man's eyes on him. He was aware of someone else's eyes on him as well, but he opted to ignore this person, too.

Once everyone was outside, cursing at the cold, Yamato locked the door and grabbed a few glasses off the tables as he made his way back to the counter. The dark-haired man, who had stolen a drink moments before, was still sitting at the counter, his eyes dancing as they followed Yamato's movements.

"Have I ever told you how much I love to watch you work?" he asked, rolling the cylindrical glass back and forth on the counter.

After dumping the other glasses carefully into a sink and making a sound of contempt, Yamato snatched the man's glass away and reached for his rag that was still lying where he had tossed it after he had finished wiping the counter the first time around, but the dark-haired man caught his wrist and pulled him back.

"Well?" he asked, his voice husky and low. "Have I?"

"Yes!" Yamato snapped irritably. "About a thousand times, Akira! Now would you let me finish?"

Akira laughed heartily and smiled at Yamato, letting his wrist go. "By the way you treat me, I'd swear you were only using me for the money."

"By the way you treat me…" Yamato mocked, though the bitterness that had filtered in his tone before was now gone. "Honestly, how do you expect me to do my job if you are constantly bothering me?"

"Touchy tonight, eh?" Akira teased.

Yamato tried not to smile, but the part of his mind wanting to give in to the playful banter somehow beat the stubborn part wanting to smack Akira around. He, nonetheless, tried to conceal his smile, turning away from Akira to pretend like he was getting a dry towel. He needed one anyway.

"So," Akira spun around on the stool so he could lean back on the counter, propping his elbows up. He made a small motion with his hand toward the older man still lying in the corner booth of the tavern. "Going to need any help tonight?"

With a slight sigh, Yamato snuck a peek at his father from the corner of his eye. Masaharu stared blearily back at him, obviously trying to hang on to the conversation they were having, but too drunk to really keep up. Yamato hated it when his father got like this, and often served the man softer drinks than what he ordered.

"Probably not. He hasn't been very energetic lately," Yamato said softly, a tinge of worry seeping into his normally calm voice. He only _allowed_ the emotions show themselves around Akira, but was still wary of letting _anyone_ see them.

There was a squeak as the stool turned when the weight shifted off of it, the sound of the small door swinging, and soon Yamato felt strong arms wrap around his waist. _This_ was why he did not care to show his worry, or any weakness. As much as he cared for Akira, being so close to someone was just… _uncomfortable_. But how did he go about telling his _boyfriend_ that he preferred a relationship without physical contact?

After a moment, Akira let go of Yamato, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek, and moved to the cash register. He pressed a few buttons and out popped the drawer. Grabbing the entire drawer, he turned back to Yamato, who was leaning against the counter with an almost bored look. "I'm going to take this up stairs and come back down to help you finish cleaning up."

With a roll of the eyes, Yamato stepped through the swinging door, rag in hand, and started cleaning the first table nearest him. "Isn't that what you said last time, and didn't come back _until_ I'd finished cleaning?"

Akira winked at Yamato with a mischievous grin, and trotted up the stairs behind the counter that led to his office and apartment above the tavern. His voice drifted down the stairs to Yamato. "Don't forget to make sure there's no gum under the tables…"

"Lazy, little…" Yamato grumbled half-heartedly. Truthfully, he _did_ care a little bit; it would be nice to have _some_ help, but Akira was already going out on a limb for him, not only risking the chance of getting his tavern shut down by employing a seventeen-year-old, but taking the risk of landing in jail by being a _relationship_ with that seventeen-year-old.

It did not take long for Yamato to finish wiping down the tables, clean the last of the shot glasses, and sweep the floor. He had a routine that he did every night, and had grown so accustomed to the way things were down, he didn't even have to think about what he was doing anymore. Instead, he let his mind drift to more important topics, like how he was supposed to be writing an essay.

Akira came bounding back down the stairs as Yamato was pulling on his coat and scarf. He gave the tavern a look over, smiling at Yamato with a slight hint of amazement. "I never have understood how you get this place so clean."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Yamato answered with a smirk. One of the things he enjoyed most was teasing Akira. Not that Akira minded in the slightest.

"You _are_ in a feisty mood tonight!" Akira laughed. He was about to make a perverse comment to join the statement, but a warning look from Yamato made him bite his tongue.

Yamato was all too aware of the thoughts that ran through Akira's mind, and it bothered him. Maybe if he were a bit more naïve his relationship would run smoother, but he could not shake the wary feelings he had. Akira was twelve years older than him, and demanded a lot more than he wanted to give at the current time in his life. Though, he also held a soft affection for the childish man.

Masaharu, however, did _not_ approve.

With an internal wince, Yamato turned to his father. When sober, his father often frowned disapprovingly at him, but _never_ brought up the topic of Yamato and Akira's relationship. Masaharu knew Yamato did not agree with the way he drank, and therefore chose to keep his opinions about Yamato to himself, but knew his son could see the angry feelings that drifted in his eyes.

 "Come on, Dad," Yamato said quietly, helping Masaharu to his feet. "We need to get going."

Masaharu was particularly drunk that night, having had a rough day at work. He grumbled something under his breath and pushed Yamato away from him, trying to show that he could stand on his own. With a slight sway, he began his way to the side door that led into the alley between the tavern and the old bank that had been closed long ago.

"I'll see you tomorrow night," Akira whispered softly in Yamato's ear, and gently gave his hand a squeeze of encouragement.

With a nod, Yamato pulled away from Akira and followed his father out the door.

-

The night was colder than Yamato had expected and he wrapped his coat tighter around his gradually numbing body. He was already losing the feeling in his fingers and toes, and his breath shown like dancing smoke in the night air.

Regardless of his earlier, calm behavior in the tavern, Masaharu decided that he did not want to go home, and languidly pushed Yamato away from him. It was a weak shove, but it caught Yamato off guard and caused him to trip over his own feet. With a startled cry, Yamato fell forward onto the ice-covered sidewalk.

Almost immediately Yamato winced and jerked the hand he had come down on close to his body. It throbbed with the pain of being landed on so roughly, and hurt even worse as Yamato shifted it. The wet ice was started to seep through his jeans, making him even colder than before, and he struggled to get to his feet.

He looked up in time to see his father stepping into the street, in front of on coming traffic.

"No!"

Instead of being plowed down by various cars that he was unaware of, Masaharu suddenly felt his coat being grabbed and his body being pulled back the way it came. His son's panicked cry only now registered in his ears, a few seconds after it was made, and he blinked at the busy street, wondering where all the cars had come from.

Having tried to get to his feet so quickly to save his father from a painful death, Yamato found that physics _did_ have a point about friction, or lack of, and he was soon back on the ground, cringing at the sharp pains that streamed through his wrist as it was jolted. He lifted his eyes to the street, half expecting to see his father being crushed and an intense feeling of guilt coursing through him.

All he saw, though, was a hand offering to help him up.

Blinking in confusion, Yamato registered the person standing in front of him, holding tightly onto Masaharu sleeve and smiling brightly down at him.

"Hey, thought you needed a lift."

The boy grinned at his own joke, but Yamato scowled and slowly got to his feet.

"Very funny."

The boy gave Yamato an amused look, but bit his lip and didn't answer.

"What were you doing on the ground, Yamato?" Masaharu asked, oblivious to the problems he was causing.

"Making snow angels," Yamato muttered bitterly. He grabbed his father's other sleeve with his better hand, and turned to the boy, his voice cold, but polite. "That was nice of you. Thank you…"

"Ah, no problem," came the answer. The boy's eyes seemed to twinkle in the streetlight, and he kept them on Yamato.

Yamato surveyed his outfit: shorts, shirt, and a light jacket, all of which were covered in mud. "Uh… aren't you cold?"

"I'm getting there. I was playing soccer a little while ago. Guess I'm still cooling off," the boy replied. He extended his hand to Yamato. "I'm Yagami Taichi."

The name instantly registered in Yamato's mind from the numerous times he had heard it being called to the principal's office, but he kept his expression blank and didn't shake Taichi's offered hand. "Well, again, thank you, Yagami-san. I greatly appreciate your help, but I must get going."

As Yamato turned to go, holding tightly onto his father now, he came face to face with Taichi, who had obviously moved to block his path. A little startled, he stepped back, nearly slipping again, but regained his balance.

"Oh, come off it, Ishida-kun. Don't be like that," Taichi said, his grin getting wider.

"Is this a friend, Yamato?" Masaharu asked, his face twisted in confusion.

"No, I'm afraid I've never met him," Yamato said, confused as well. He stared at Taichi uncertainly. "I _haven't_ met you before, have I?"

"Unless you consider knocking a book shelf on top of me meeting me, then, no. You haven't," Taichi said, his smile growing.

Yamato suddenly took on a look of horror. "That… that was… _you_?"

Taichi nodded.

"Oh, I'm so sorry about that! I didn't mean to," Yamato said quickly. He flinched when he remembered bumping into the unsteady bookshelf, causing it to topple onto whoever was on the other side of it. He didn't actually get to see the person since the principal had dragged him out of the library, thinking he had _meant_ to knock it over.

Taichi quickly waved his hand for Yamato to stop talking. "It's okay, really. Only little bruises. I hope you didn't get into too much trouble."

"No, just one afternoon of detention. Honestly, it was an accident," Yamato said, chewing uneasily at his bottom lip.

"I believe you," Taichi said sincerely, his expression solemn, but the hint of a grin trying to break past. "After seeing you slip-'n-slide I sort of figured you were a klutz."

Yamato's uneasiness and apologies flew out the window as he gave Taichi a flat look. "I am _not_ a klutz. If you hadn't noticed, there's ice all over the sidewalk."

"Guess I missed it," Taichi replied, lifting one foot to show his cleats. "I understand the ice, but what about the bookshelf?"

"That was simply an unfortunate happening that… Hey, wait a moment. How did you know my name?" Yamato demanded. He folded his arms over his chest, whimpering mentally at his hurt wrist. "I don't remember introducing myself earlier."

Taichi shrugged unconcernedly. "A guy on the soccer team has a sister who is madly in love with you. He comes to practice complaining about how she wont stop writing your name everywhere."

"Really? I've never noticed," Yamato said earnestly. Did he ever feel as dumb as he did that very moment? He didn't think so. Considering he never paid attention to anyone at his school…

"I'm not surprised. You're not always on Earth when I see you. I'd like to know what kind of dream world you stay in," Taichi said with a wink. "Speaking of not noticing… There goes your father."

"How did you know he… Huh?" Yamato spun around, eyes widening. "Ah! Dad! Get back here!"

Taichi shook his head in amusement, and took off after Yamato, who was nearly slipping with every step as he raced after his swaying father. When he reached Masaharu, he grabbed onto the man tightly before his legs could fly from beneath him again. Taichi slowly came to a stop beside him and waited for him to catch his breath.

"Need any help?"

Yamato shook his head. "No. I wasn't watching him is all. I need to get him home before he gets sick, and you should do the same."

"Yeah, I suppose so," Taichi agreed, smiling softly. He took a few steps toward the street, and then paused, turning back to face Yamato. "I'll see you around, even if it is through a shower of books."

Yamato started to make a sharp reply, but Taichi was already dashing across the icy street. That boy was definitely an odd one. Honestly, who played soccer at ten o' clock at night?

*  *  *

"You're coming to the school play, right Ishida-kun?"

Out of sheer courtesy, Yamato resisted the urge to snap a remark about the school play, and politely took the flyer the girl was handing to him. "Perhaps."

His answer seemed to please her enough, as she smiled and trotted along to give another unwilling person the extremely – blindingly – pink flyer. Yamato had not known that that shade of the color existed, and, to be quite frank, he was frightened of it, and deposited it into the nearest trash bin, which was already overflowing with pink.

Yamato brushed a few strands of hair from his face before continuing down the school stairs. Akira had once told him that he practically flowed when he walked, making the action look like a graceful technique. It bothered him when he thought about it; he hated when Akira tried to compliment him. The comments always seemed to fall short of their flattery-intentions.

The sun was shining bright through the wisps of white clouds, but the air was still chilly and Yamato tugged his green school jacket tighter around his body. He had meant to bring his coat, but his father was using it for a pillow on the couch when he left, and he did not care to wake the older man. Masaharu needed all the sleep he could get.

As Yamato passed the gymnasium he could hear shouts and the squeaks of tennis shoes on the waxed basketball court with the occasional thump of a basketball. He thought about peering inside to see if Takeru was there, but decided it was too cold to be making any detours. Beside, Takeru would hate to know that Yamato was checking up on him.

"Hm, out all alone with no coat. Not even a sweater!"

Startled, Yamato turned sharply toward the cheery voice behind him. It took him a moment to recognize the person grinning at him, and he offered a civil smile in return. "Good afternoon, Yagami-san."

Taichi rolled his eyes and stepped up beside Yamato, mocking him. "'Good afternoon, Yagami-san.' What kind of greeting is _that_?"

"A well-mannered one," Yamato answered simply.

"Well, we will have to do something about those manners of yours," Taichi said with a bit of a teasing tone. He flashed another grin when Yamato frowned, and the two began to walk down the sidewalk. "Why no coat?"

"It was dirty," Yamato lied.

Taichi paused to pull the scarf he had on from around his neck and held it out to Yamato. "Here. It's not much, but you need _something_."

"I'm fine, but thank you anyway," Yamato replied.

Taichi raised an eyebrow at him before grabbing both ends of the scarf, slung the middle around his neck, and began to fold it. Yamato started to protest but Taichi, grinning, turned the scarf up so that it covered his mouth. Narrowing his eyes, Yamato waited for Taichi to finish and step away before pulling the scarf away from his mouth.

"Ah, the colors clash," Taichi said, eyeing the scarf. "Just a shade or two difference, though. I can hardly tell."

"What are you talking about?" Yamato asked, looking down at the blue scarf against his green school jacket. "Of course they clash. They're… oh, never mind."

Taichi laughed and grabbed the end of the scarf. He turned around and began to walk again, pulling the scarf and with it, Yamato. Yamato jerked forward, feeling much like a dog on a leash, and pushed Taichi's hand away as they fell into step beside each other.

"So, I take it you got home safe last night? No more ice skating on the sidewalks?" Taichi asked. He ignored Yamato's glare, smiling at something in the distance.

"Why were you playing soccer so late anyway?" Yamato asked, trying to sound bitter as he messed with the tassels hanging off the end of the scarf.

"We got caught up in the game and lost track of time. I didn't realize it was so late until my sister called to see if I was still alive or not," Taichi explained. He leapt onto the short, brick retaining wall, balancing on it like a gymnast as they walked. "I guess it was fate that we ran into each other; me all muddy, and you trying to break your neck. What a sight we were to everyone else, hm?"

A small smile graced Yamato's face as he thought about what they must have looked like together. With him falling gracefully to the ground every time he stood up, Taichi looking like he had participated in a mud fight only a minute earlier, and an older, drunk man in the midst of the two, one could merely wonder what was on other people's minds.

"They say it's going to start snowing soon," Taichi said, peering at the sky through the leafless tree branches that hung over the walk.

Yamato, too, looked up. "It's been snowing."

"But not hard. We've barely had a light snow. They say it's supposed to really pick up and start snowing hard." Taichi smiled down at Yamato, noticing that he was only a little taller than Yamato even though he stood on a brick wall. "I guess you don't care too much if it snows or not. You don't seem to be the outdoorsy type."

"Hm… I prefer to call it 'caring from a distance,'" Yamato answered with a sly smile.

Taichi let out a rich, short laugh and started to walk again. Yamato quickly followed and the two walked in companionable silence for a while, both thinking about separate things. The wind blew past them, making the empty tree branches crack against one another and some loose papers to blow across sidewalk.

When Taichi and Yamato came to where sidewalk split into two different sidewalks, one going toward the north and the other toward the south, Taichi hopped off the brick wall, rubbing his hands together for a moment's warmth.

"So, are you going to that play?" he asked.

Yamato shifted his book bag to his other shoulder and shook his head. "No. I have to work that day."

"Where do you work?"

"A restaurant."

Taichi raised an eyebrow. "A restaurant?"

Yamato nodded.

"What, you think I am going to stalk you?" Taichi teased.

Yamato cocked his head to the side, giving Taichi a serious look. "Honestly?"

Taichi grinned and began to walk away on the northern sidewalk, lifting his hand to wave and saying, without turning, "See you around, Yamato-kun."

*  *  *

Despite the icy snow that rained down in a rage upon the innocent sidewalks, the howling wind aiding it in striking unfortunate pedestrians that either chose to or were forced to take to the streets at such a wicked hour in the night, the tavern was full of mirth and was quite warm, with its joyous drunks laughing like boisterous clowns.

Their singing amused Yamato as he carefully, and skillfully, flipped fragile bottles around to fill the empty glasses resting on the marble counter from one end to another. He had a special kind of knack for remembering who had ordered what, and he prided himself in seeing the impressed expressions on the faces of men who were still sober.

Akira was sitting at a table with three especially drunk men, joining in on their singing and raising his glass with them in a toast to the moment. Yamato disapproved, but was amused all the same.

During the few slow moments, when words to a song could not be remember or a break was needed to gasp for air, Yamato left the counter to pick up empty glasses at abandoned tables, all the while keeping his eye on the men nearest the easily-accessed alcohol. The tavern was a small one, though at times was often full, so it was simple for Yamato to watch everyone like a hawk. In some cases, like a mother hen.

This particular night, however, Yamato found himself pausing at one of the tables nearest the large windows, his hand stopped half way in its reach for the glass. The snow invited him outside, the wind shouting for him to join in on the fun of dancing through the streets. Yamato, captivated by the swirls brushing against the windows of the tavern, did not hear Akira call his name the first three times.

"Yamato!"

Startled, Yamato jumped, nearly losing his grip on the five glasses he was holding. He spun toward the call, flushing with embarrassment. "Yeah?"

Akira pointed to the counter where the men sitting there were holding the glasses under the nozzles.

"Hey!" Yamato shouted, rushing back to the counter. He set down the glasses he was holding and slapped hands away from the nozzles. "I hope you boys plan to pay for that!"

The men chuckled and gave Yamato toothy grins that clearly said they did not plan to pay for anything. Sending each of them a warning look, Yamato went back to cleaning as another song was started.

His fun in the snow would have to wait for another night.

--

"Where's your dad? Working late?"

Yamato traced the frost lines on the tavern window, his mind drifting away with the now calmly falling snow. Akira stared at him expectantly, and then oddly.

"Hey? Are you alive? Yamato?"

"Hm?" Yamato's eyes darted to Akira momentarily before going back to the snow. "Oh… Yeah, I guess he is."

Akira raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay? You've been a bit scatter-brained all night."

"I'm fine," Yamato sighed. He stood up and stretched, smiling softly at Akira. "I'm tired is all."

"Tired, tired, tired. I must be working you too hard, keeping you these late hours," Akira said with a wink. He moved forward and began to fix the scarf Yamato wore, tying it, Yamato noticed, on the opposite side Taichi had. "When did you get this scarf? I don't think I have ever seen you wear it before."

"A person at school let me borrow it. I forgot to take it off and give it back when we went separate ways," Yamato answered, looking down at the scarf. He could have gotten one of his own while he was at home, so not to ruin Taichi's by accident, but he was not good at tying the blasted things so he had only grabbed his coat.

"It's a nice scarf. Matches your eyes beautifully." Akira leaned forward and gave Yamato a quick kiss before turning him toward the door. "Now, go home and get some sleep. I expect you to be bouncy tomorrow."

"When have I ever been bouncy?" Yamato asked, but all he got as an answer was laughter.

The air was colder than Yamato was expecting, and he quickly buttoned up his coat as he stepped outside, wrapping his arms around himself to contain some of the warmth the tavern had left him. He was glad that his father was at work, as this was one night that would make directing a drunken man very difficult.

The snow on the sidewalk was already deep and the sky did not appear to be giving up on its quest to paint the earth below it white. The falling snow speckled Yamato, clinging to his clothes and hair. His toes were numb the moment he stepped into the deep snow, and his fingers, though he wore gloves, were beginning to numb as well. The walk to his apartment was not a long one, and the promise of hot cocoa and a nice warm shower made him walk faster.

--

The warmth of the apartment was entirely too inviting, and Yamato leaned against his front door for a moment after he had closed it, soaking in the heat and defrosting his toes and fingers. The only light on in the apartment was the kitchen light, indicating that Masaharu had not come home yet, as he usually turned it off before going to sleep.

Finally moving away from the door, Yamato kicked off his icy shoes and shivered out of his snow-covered coat. He untied the scarf as he walked to the bathroom, skipping the hot cocoa idea and going straight for the warm shower one.

As he closed the bathroom door, Yamato's eyes met up with his reflection's in the mirror. He paused, fingers playing with the edges of the scarf, the action being performed opposite him. The scarf was a nice blue color and Yamato leaned closer to the mirror to study the color of his eyes. Akira was right. They did match, except…

"No," he mumbled, shaking his head. "There's just a shade or two difference, though. I can hardly… tell…"

Yamato's reflection in the mirror took on shocked expression of realization.

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Ah, hm… I hope to get the second chapter out as soon as possible, but I am one of the slowest writers. I know where I want to take this fic; I just need to figure out how to write it out, so please excuse the amount of time it will take to get the next chapter out.

Forgive me?


	2. Wonderwall

This chapter is a developing chapter. In order for things to happen later on in the fic, I have to have this chapter, thus making this chapter seem unproductive and un-answering of any questions that have already risen or may arise by the end of the chapter. Most everything that happens will be answered by the end of the fic, so please bear with me.

I, personally, am not too happy with this chapter. I think it is too squishy, so I want honest reviews. Do you think I take Yamato way too OOC, or maybe there is too much nonsense? Do tell me.

(Standard Disclaimer Applies)

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Yamato sat on the floor beside his front door and pulled on two pairs of thick white socks. Morning sunshine filtered into the bare apartment through the balcony windows, yet the light could only stretch so far, and it left Yamato in the dim shadows to finish getting ready for school. Except for the sound of the refrigerator buzzing the kitchen, the apartment was quiet.

A long, darker shadow fell over Yamato, and he glanced up and back to see his father standing over him. He frowned upon noticing the man's unshaven face and untidy hair, but went back to what he was already busy with, saying quietly, "You need to start getting up earlier. You'll be late for work."

Masaharu grunted something incoherently before asking, "Do you work tonight?"

"Yes," Yamato answered, reaching for his shoes.

It seemed as though that was all Masaharu wanted to know, because he turned slightly to leave, but stopped, his eyes still on Yamato. He watched silently as Yamato finished with his shoes and stood up, grabbing his bag and throwing it over his shoulder. Their eyes met briefly before Yamato turned to leave, his hand resting on the doorknob.

"Yamato…"

Yamato paused, waiting for Masaharu to continue. Masaharu stared at his son's back, contemplating how to put his thoughts into words. He watched as Yamato turned his head slightly so that he could barely see his son's hopeful expression.

"Yamato, I…" he started again, but Yamato turned around to face him completely and he faltered. A sudden feeling ran through Masaharu, telling him that this was not the right time to bring up such a topic, and he quickly thought of something else to say.

"I will be working late tonight, so I won't come home till after you're asleep, if I come home at all. Don't bother making dinner before you leave."

 Masaharu could see the disappointment that flashed across Yamato's face as he nodded reluctantly, turning to leave once more. As he turned the doorknob, he hesitated, as if waiting for Masaharu to stop him again, but no such thing happened and he finally stepped outside, closing the door gently behind him.

For a little while, Masaharu stood in place and stared at the door, wondering if he should have continued, wondering what would have happened if he did. But that was not what had come about, and he convinced himself that he had done the right thing in leaving the conversation to a later date.

--

The sky was a soft morning mix of blue and gray, and the white snowflakes continued to fall, though their drifts were lazier now than they were so many nights before, and, even though the sun beamed brightly, the air was still overwhelmingly cold. It was going to be a bright day. The clouds were moving quickly across the sky, opening more and more of it for the sun.

Yamato watched the ground before him as he walked, listening to the sound of the snow crunching under his shoes. He liked that sound; it reminded him of the same crunching noise that gravel made when he walked down the country road his grandmother lived on. He wanted to listen to it, needed it to block out the noise of his father's voice that echoed in his head.

"I will be working late tonight…" 

_Was he lying when he said that_? Yamato wondered as he stopped to stare at the sky. _Where have you been, Dad? You haven't come by Akira's recently_… _You need to tell me…_

The falling snow speckled Yamato with white spots. Sighing, Yamato wrapped his arms tighter around his body and resumed his walking, shaking his head to rid his hair of as much of the snow as he possibly could.

_No, he wasn't lying. Why would he need to? Yet_…

"Good morning, Yamato-kun."

Yamato frowned to himself, wondering who lived near him that knew him and why this person was greeting him so early in the morning when, obviously, he was thinking about something important. He stopped walking and began to turn around, but one foot slid from beneath him and the other just slid.

Once he had hit a growth spurt, Yamato had become accustomed to the tingly sensation of falling, and the abrupt stop of when his rump met the ground, that came with being tall. He tended to flinch before he ever hit the ground now, the thoughts of the pain more motivation than the pain itself.

However, this time Yamato felt himself being stopped, not by the icy ground beneath him, but by a hand clinging to the front of his jacket. The world had been spinning while he was falling, so somewhere along the way he had chosen to close his eyes. Now he opened them slowly, adrenaline coursing through his body even now because only the heels of his shoes were on the ice.

Yamato leaned forward, rocking back onto his feet and gripping tightly to the forearm of the person who had caught him. "You know," he said when he felt stable enough to let go and attempt to balance on his own, "I really hate ice. Good morning, Yagami-san."

"They haven't salted the sidewalks yet, I guess," Taichi said, leaning over to pick Yamato's bag from a pile of snow where it hand landed whilst Yamato flung his arms about. "And, please, call me Taichi."

Taking his bag from Taichi, Yamato brushed off the snow that clung to it. "And what are you doing here, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I live near here," Taichi answered.

"You do?" Yamato asked doubtfully, remembering that Taichi had turned the opposite direction at school.

Taichi shrugged. "Well, not yet, but I will in a couple of weeks. We've already started moving our stuff into the new apartment, and I came by to pick up something that I left in there the other day. I saw you walking by and decided to walk to school with you. After all, I'm going to need to know the quickest route to school every morning."

Yamato folded his arms and frowned at Taichi, eyeing him analytically. "You made all that up, didn't you?"

Grinning, Taichi stretched his arms, placing them behind his head, and began to walk down the sidewalk, Yamato following him but still giving him a disbelieving look. "Yep. Thought a morning story would wake you up. You looked pretty out of it when I saw you."

"Whatever," Yamato said with a roll of his eyes. "I happened to have been thinking something important, but I'm sure you've never suffered an honest thought before, so I understand how you couldn't tell the difference."

"Harsh. Is that any way to thank the person that saved you from busting it only moments ago?" Taichi asked.

"Why are you really here?" Yamato countered.

"Honestly? I forgot my school shoes at a friend's house last night. My dad dropped me off on the way to work this morning to get them," Taichi said.

"Why aren't you walking with him?" Yamato asked, narrowing his eyes since he still did not believe Taichi.

"What is this? C-X debate?" Taichi laughed, giving Yamato a wide grin. "His school starts an hour later than ours," he held his hand up, stopping whatever Yamato planned to say. "And, before you ask, I know him through soccer, and that's the honest truth. Really, Yamato-kun, I'm not _trying_ to stalk you."

For a moment, it seemed as thought Yamato did not believe Taichi, but then he nodded and finally turned his attention back to the ground as they walked.

"So…" Taichi started, "What were you thinking about?"

Yamato shrugged indifferently. "Things."

"Just things?" Taichi asked. At Yamato's glare he quickly changed the subject. "It feels like the air is getting a little warmer."

"Oh, that reminds me…" Yamato slung his bag around in front of him and unzipped it, reaching for the light blue scarf that was folded neatly within. He pulled it from his bag and held it out for Taichi to take. "Thank you for lending it to me."

Taichi looked at the scarf, and then at Yamato. "You can keep it if you want."

"No thank you. I have plenty," Yamato said, shoving the scarf into Taichi's chest with a smile. "Besides, it's a shade lighter."

Finally taking the scarf, Taichi slung it loosely around his neck, returning the smile. "Ah, you figured it out."

"Yes, I did," Yamato said, zipping his bag and pushing it back over his shoulder again. "I have to admit, you're very perceptive."

"Only sometimes," Taichi answered with a short laugh. "And only with some things. Eyes are my specialty. I notice them before I notice anything else. Some people have mean eyes, some people have soft eyes, and some people have distracted eyes… It all depends on the person, really."

"Eyes, hm? I think I notice teeth first," Yamato said thoughtfully. "You can tell a lot about someone because of their teeth."

"Is that so?" Taichi asked. "What can you tell about me?"

Yamato nearly laughed outright when he looked up to see Taichi grinning really big, but he settled for an amused smile. "Well, it looks like you had braces at one point in time, and you don't smoke."

Taichi raised an eyebrow. "That's pretty good. Of course, the smoking thing is easy. I wouldn't be any good at soccer if I smoked."

"But I don't know if you're good at soccer," Yamato replied.

"That's true…"

They were almost to the school gates already, and the sidewalk was getting more crowded with students waiting outside for the bell to ring. Yamato slipped through the crowd, carefully avoiding everyone, and was surprised to find that Taichi followed him instead of drifting away to one of the social groups.

Yamato settled himself by the wall near the school's cement steps, leaning against it like he usually did when he waited. Taichi dropped down onto the ground, sitting beside him, resting his hands behind his head and closing his eyes.

"You said you weren't going to the play, right?" Taichi asked suddenly, turning his head slightly to look up at Yamato.

"Yeah. Why?" Yamato replied, eyes drifting over the crowd of chattering students.

"Just wondering if I'd have any company," Taichi said. "I have to go to support a few friends that are in it."

It was a weird feeling for Yamato, having someone to talk to while he waited. The year before, both he and a friend waited every morning in the same spot by the steps for the bell to ring, but after his friend graduated, Yamato was left alone. Not that he minded. It was easier to not struggle to make conversation with anyone.

Yet, with Taichi, Yamato did not feel like he was struggling. 

The bell rang, and, all at once, the mass of students began herding toward their classes. Yamato pushed away from the wall, Taichi hopped to his feet, and again they were headed in different directions. But, before he left, Yamato had to know one thing.

"Hey, Taichi?"

Taichi paused and turned to face Yamato. "Yes?"

"What kind of eyes do _I_ have?" Yamato asked curiously.

A grin spread across Taichi's face. "Haven't you ever looked in the mirror, Ishida? Your eyes are blue."

"That's not what I meant!" Yamato snapped, narrowing his eyes into a glare.

Taichi simply laughed and began to walk away, stopping only one last time to say, "And I never had braces."

--

"You look a little young to be serving alcohol."

Yamato gave a cold, sideways glance at the man currently sitting at the bar closest to him. The guy had been making snippy, annoying comments all night toward Yamato, tempting him to poison the alcohol. He was dirty, grungy dirty, like he had not had a shower in two weeks, and he certainly smelt like he hadn't, too.

"Yes, sir, I do, but looks can be deceiving," Yamato answered politely but dryly.

The guy coughed a, "Yeah," and took another long drink from his glass, slamming it back on the counter with enough force to startle a few of the other occupants when he was done. He wiped his mouth the back of his hand and dug around in one pocket for some change to pay for his drink. He eventually pulled some out, tossing it onto the counter before coughing into his hand.

As Yamato moved to scoop up the change, the guy reached out with the hand he had just coughed into and snatched Yamato's wrist, jerking Yamato toward him. His dirty fingernails dug into Yamato's skin and he smirked a yellow-toothed smirk. His eyes narrowed on Yamato. "Now, don't you feel dirty, kid?"

From across the tavern, where he had been playing cards with a few of the usuals, Akira noticed the abrupt movement at the bar from the corner of his eye and shifted slightly to see what was going on. He was startled by what he saw and immediately left the card game to rescue his favorite employee, who was looking scared out of his wits.

"Hey!" Akira shouted, grabbing the scruffy man roughly on the shoulder. "We don't tolerate that kind of behavior here. I think it's time for you to leave."

The man laughed hoarsely and let go of Yamato, standing up and stretching. "I believe you're right."

Yamato, after having drawn his hand back close to his body and backed away from the counter, rubbed subconsciously at his wrist as he watched, with everyone else in the tavern, the man leave. He could feel his heart pounding in his ears, but collected himself as Akira turned to face him.

"What happened? What did he say to you?" Akira asked, his expression both worried and angered.

Yamato shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment. "He's just some jerk trying to cause trouble."

"What did he say to you?" Akira repeated.

Yamato waved him off. "Nothing important. I could hardly understand him anyway."

Akira nodded reluctantly, a frown on his face. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Yamato answered, turning around to the sink behind him. He turned on the water and grabbed the soap resting nearby. "I'm fine."

*  *  *

Masaharu glanced over the top of his newspaper at Yamato, who was currently washing his hands for the fifth time in the past three minutes. Actually, there had only been a small break in the washing of hands when Yamato needed to stir whatever was cooking on the stove, but soap had only been applied five times since the washing began.

Shaking his head in slight confusion, Masaharu decided to continue reading. At least, he tried. He kept shooting looks in Yamato's direction, trying to figure out why, all of the sudden, his son had decided that the kitchen was too dirty to so much as breathe in. After watching Yamato squeeze soap onto his hands for a sixth time, Masaharu finally laid his paper on the table and leaned back in his chair.

"Yamato," he started, but realized he had not grabbed his son's attention. Sighing, he tried again, a little more sternly. "Yamato!"

Yamato jumped and spun around, "Yes?"

Masaharu motioned to the water that was still running behind Yamato, and he quickly spun back around to turn it off, snatching up a towel to dry his hands. When his son was facing him again, Masaharu decided to continue. "If you're trying to win a Mr. Clean contest, then you already have everyone beat with your normal habits. I approve of being clean, but is there some reason you insist on washing your hands so damn much?"

"I…" Yamato looked down at his hands, which were red from the intense scrubbing. "I guess I got lost in thought and forgot what I was doing."

"Oh, I see," Masaharu said, frowning uncertainly. He sighed, shaking his head, and picked up his paper once more. "Okay then. Try not waste anymore soap."

With a nod, Yamato moved to the stove and checked to make sure nothing had burned. It was almost ready, being only a serving for one person. He was not hungry, but could hear his father's stomach grumble every now and then.

Glancing at Yamato again, Masaharu noticed something very pink stuck to his refrigerator. He squinted his eyes to read the small writing on it. "Bastion? Is that what that says?"

"Huh?" Yamato followed his father's gaze to the flyer. "Oh, yeah. It's a play our school is putting on. I was planning on going to it."

He had been passing one of the trash bins at school that was overflowing with pink and decided to rescue one of the flyers. The play itself did not appeal to him much, but it would be nice to get out, since he was either cooped up in school, his apartment, or Akira's tavern. Besides, Taichi would be there and that would give him someone to talk to.

Masaharu nodded, rubbing his eyes to get rid of the pink dots that suddenly appeared. Once everything was finished cooking, Yamato made a plate and set it before his father. He removed his apron, hung it by the refrigerator, and, resisting the temptation to wash his hands again, started to leave the kitchen in favor of his room where he could sleep.

In the doorway, however, he stopped and stared over his shoulder at his father who was eating and still reading the newspaper.

Masaharu noticed Yamato's eyes on him and looked up from the newspaper. "Yes?"

"Do you…" Yamato hesitated, eyes darting to the floor. His voice came out small and quiet when he spoke again. "Do you think I'm dirty?"

"What?" Masaharu asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

Yamato shook his head frantically and hurriedly left the kitchen, his voice drifting behind him.

"Nothing. Just forget it."

*  *  *

With an unenthusiastic expression, Yamato studied the school auditorium's steps in front of him, and then the pink flyer he held in his hand. He still had not decided whether he wanted to go to the play or not. He would miss a couple of hours of work, but Akira had told him that was no problem since he, in Akira's opinion, needed time off anyway.

Yamato's eyes drifted around the front of the building. Most people, even though the day was not as cold as the ones before it, had gone inside. There was a small group right outside the doors, and Yamato spotted Taichi in it, standing farthest away from him. The group seemed to huddle around Taichi, all leaning in to catch his every word.

_How does he draw people to him like that?_ Yamato wondered. He considered leaving, since Taichi appeared to have plenty of "company" already, but he didn't feel much like going home yet, or to Akira's, and began to walk toward the group. Walking up the steps, he could hear whatever it was that Taichi was saying that had the group of people so absorbed.

"-of course that would be a major blow to pride."

The group laughed, but the statement meant nothing to Yamato, given that he had not heard everything else. Taichi glanced in Yamato's direction, offering him a wink that went unnoticed in the group. Yamato smiled briefly in response, staying in the back of the group and leaning his shoulder against one of the poles holding up the awning.

With a graceful toss of his hair, Taichi had the attention of the group again. "Anyhow, let's get inside before the play starts, even if my bum _is_ too numb to sit down any time soon. It's freezing out here!"

A murmur of agreement and small laughter broke through the group and they began drifting toward the auditorium doors. Taichi waited patiently where he was as the group moved indoors, as did Yamato. His stare was fixed on Yamato, and he only broke it to answer someone's question.

As the last person disappeared inside, Taichi moved away from his spot toward Yamato, a soft smirk on his face. "You actually came."

Yamato couldn't help but smile as he stared back at Taichi, but he shrugged in an indifferent manner. "Yeah, well, I didn't feel much like going to work today."

"Of course not. Work is no fun," Taichi said, grinning. Grabbing Yamato's jacket sleeve, he began to go down the steps, clearly not heading to the auditorium. "Come on. The faster we get out of here the better."

Swatting Taichi's hand away, Yamato paused on the last step, confused. "What about the play?"

"You really want to see it?" Taichi asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Well…" Yamato hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. "No, I don't, but didn't you say you needed to support some friends?"

Taichi rolled his eyes. "They should know by now that I don't stick around for things like this. Besides, I can't sit still that long unless I'm asleep." He tapped his foot impatiently, hands on his hips. "Now are we going to go do something fun, or what?"

"Sure, I guess," Yamato said with a sigh, following Taichi down the icy sidewalks toward the bus stop.

--

The mall was hardly crowded, unusual for a Saturday afternoon. The soft hum of voices and the warmth of inside washed over Yamato as he stepped through the sliding glass doors and, closing his eyes, he breathed in the warm air, happy to be out of the icy wind. He heard a soft chuckle, but did not open his eyes, offering only a small smile.

"You look like you could use something warm, yeah?" Taichi asked. "Coffee, maybe?"

Yamato sighed a quiet, content sigh, and slowly opened his eyes to meet Taichi's. "Mm… How about hot cocoa instead?"

"If that's what you want."

"Yes… Except," Yamato reached into his coat pocket, frowning when his fingers only brushed the cloth lining. "Except, I don't have my wallet with me."

"Ah, no problem. It's on me. I'm the one who made you come here," Taichi said, waving away any protests. "You just find a place to sit, and I'll do the rest."

Nodding, Yamato casually strolled toward the benches placed in the cross section of the mall. He dropped onto an empty one, all the while surveying the mall with a sort of childish awe. He seldom went shopping at big malls, but he enjoyed them when he did. Of course, he didn't have any money with him, but then, he was not planning to buy anything either.

Taichi walked toward him a couple of minutes later, a foam cup in each hand. He handed one to Yamato before sitting down. As he sipped at his steaming coffee, he watched Yamato take equally small sips of his hot cocoa. Taichi was amused with the way Yamato seemed to bask in the mall's heat, and he grinned when Yamato glanced at him.

"Not much for cold weather, are you?"

With a thoughtful, "Hm," Yamato wrapped his icy fingers around his warm cup, smiling to himself. "No, not really."

"That's too bad. You miss out on all the winter fun," Taichi said, and then laughed out right at the flabbergasted expression on Yamato's face.

"Winter fun? You call icy sidewalks and freezing wind _fun_?" 

"Not everyone has balance problems like you do, Yamato-kun, and most people wear coats or other such warming items," Taichi teased, earning himself a sharp look. Pretending to ignore it, he took another sip of his coffee before continuing. "Loads of fun things happen in the winter, too, and if you really get to thinking about it, you wouldn't have met me if it hadn't been for those icy sidewalks, and _then_ where would you be?"

"At home in a nice warm bed?" Yamato offered.

"You'd be at your job," Taichi stated firmly. "As far as being warm goes… Well, I'll buy you a coat today."

Yamato frowned, looking down at the gray coat he was wearing, and then back at Taichi, folding his arms over his chest. "I have a coat."

"Yeah, but I don't like that coat," Taichi said, eyes wandering distastefully over Yamato's coat. "It's too… bleh."

"Thank you for your kind words," Yamato said huffily, though he had to agree with Taichi. He really did not like the coat, but it was the only one he had.

"What?" Taichi said defensively, but then raised a cautious eyebrow. "You don't have some sort of emotional attachment to it, do you? I mean, no dead aunt bought you that before she died, right?"

"No, I do not have an emotional attachment to my coat," Yamato replied flatly. He felt a little guilty for saying that, since Akira was the one who got him the coat, but he could not help it if the man had no taste!

"Good," Taichi mumbled, interrupting Yamato's thoughts, "Because I'm getting you a new one."

And, with that, Taichi finished off the last of his coffee.

--

"Ohh, I like this one."

Yamato glanced over the clothes rack to see the coat Taichi had found, eyes widening a little. "Isn't that a girl's coat?"

Taichi, who had been holding the cream-colored coat up to his own body, hung the coat over one arm and gave Yamato a calculating look. "Do you do _anything_ besides got to school and work all the time? I mean, honestly, why would a girl's coat be in the men's section, hm?"

"Well… I don't… Just shut up," Yamato growled, viciously pushing the coats on the rack in front of him down so he could get to a certain one. "I don't know why you want to waste money on buying me a coat anyway."

"Because that dreary gray one you insist on wearing does not flatter your body type in the slightest," Taichi said plainly. "Come over here and see if this fits."

"My body type?" Yamato questioned, raising an eyebrow, hand in mid-push.

"That coat is meant for someone short. _You_ are not short, now come here," Taichi snapped authoritatively.

Yamato studied the coat Taichi was holding. "It's kind of long. Won't that go past my knees?"

"No, probably about mid-thigh since you're tall, but we won't know if you don't come over here…" Taichi tapped his foot impatiently, pointing to the ground beside him. "Here. Now."

With a sigh, Yamato slowly began walking over to Taichi, eyeing the coat warily. He felt more like trudging, but Ishida Yamato did _not_ trudge in public. Trudging was only allowed in the mornings for the short distance between his room and the bathroom, and that was only if his father was still fast asleep.

The cream-colored coat was quite heavy, Yamato noticed, and it had milky white buttons that went most of the way down, just barely stopping before the end of the coat. The bottom of the coat belled out slightly, and the inside of the coat was a soft, fuzzy material. However, none of this was what Yamato liked most about it.

Taking one of the straps that dangled from either side of the coat, Yamato slapped Taichi across the arm with it, receiving a satisfying pop and a startled cry from Taichi. "You know, I really like this coat."

Taichi rubbed his stinging arm. "Only because you can turn it into a weapon."

"Mm… exactly," Yamato said, smiling mischievously and swinging the strap. "Although, it is awfully heavy. I'd only be able to wear it on very cold days."

"Then we'll get you two coats. That one, and then one to wear when it's not so cold," Taichi said, having recovered from his abuse. He turned to the coat rack as Yamato started to protest.

"Taichi… I really don't think you should do that. It's bad enough you want to buy me _one_ coat," Yamato said, seizing Taichi's arm and turning him back around.

"Relax already. I told you I don't care, so accept that, would you?" Taichi replied earnestly. He frowned at Yamato's guilty expression, but it turned into an amused grin when Yamato jerked his hand away, as if abruptly realizing he was still hanging on to Taichi's arm. "You really are a weird one, you know that right, Yamato-kun?"

"Whatever," Yamato mumbled halfheartedly, and began to switch back to his gray coat while Taichi searched for another one.

Taichi laughed and pulled a cinnamon-colored, light coat from the rack. "How about this one? Like it?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Yamato answered, lifting one of the sleeves so he could see the front better. "I like the color."

"Good." Taichi took the cream coat from Yamato and swung both coats over the crook of his arm. "Let's go buy these and get out of here. I still want to show you my favorite stores."

While Taichi went to buy the coats, Yamato wandered back into the traffic area of the mall to look around. A crew of men were stringing Christmas decorations across the mall's tall walls. Most of the stores had already been decorated, little Christmas trees in every window and wreaths hanging in every doorway. And, of course, there were lights everywhere: blinking ones, sparkling ones, colored and plain ones. It was a sight to behold.

Taichi appeared beside Yamato and followed his gaze to the Christmas decorators. "Wow, I guess it is already that time of the year. These past few weeks have gone by fast…"

"Yeah…" Yamato faced Taichi, a smile present on his face. "Where do you want to go now?"

"Well, we have to visit the candy shop at least once, but we can do that on our way out." Taichi hummed thoughtfully to himself, swinging the bag that held Yamato's two coats back and forth. "I need to go by the music shop and pick up my order, so we could quickly go by there right now, if you don't mind."

"That's fine," Yamato answered, and they began to walk with the flow of shoppers. "What is your order?"

"Just some stuff for my guitar."

"Oh? You play?" Yamato asked.

"Well…" Taichi smiled sheepishly. "I try to. I'm not very good at it. Take a left here."

Yamato did as told. "You're learning then?"

"I'm taking lessons, but I'm not sure about the learning part. I only seem to be getting worse. I'm thinking about giving it up," Taichi said a bit regretfully. He stopped in front of a store. "This is it. Come on inside. It's a pretty cool place."

With the guitars that lined the walls, the drum sets, keyboards, and various other musical items, Yamato had to agree. Taichi went straight to the front counter and began talking to a man behind it, while he ran a finger around the rim of one drum and then tapped on it lightly, a childish glee running through him at the quiet, hissing sound it made.

Wandering deeper into the store, Yamato eyed the many different guitars curiously. There were so many of them, and what was the distinction between some of them? Like bass and steel, electric and five string? How were they different? Most of them certainly looked the same.

Yamato ran his finger down one of the strings and then, glancing left and right to make sure no one was around, lightly tweaked the string. A soft, low hum sounded only for a quick second, but it was enough to thrill Yamato, making him grin in delight. He tried the string above the one he had just plucked, and then the one above that one. He continued until he had heard all the strings.

"Enjoying yourself?"

Spinning around, Yamato clasped his hands behind his back, blinking innocently at Taichi. "What do you mean?"

Taichi just grinned and turned to the employee standing beside him. "Can he look at that one?"

The employee nodded and went to remove the guitar from the wall. Yamato was beside Taichi in an instant, his face expressing his worry.

"I don't think that's a good idea. What if I break it?" Yamato asked, wringing his hands together.

Taichi rolled his eyes. "You won't break it."

"What if I drop it?" Yamato's eyes were now on the approaching employee and the guitar in his hands.

"You won't be able to drop it if you're sitting down," Taichi replied. He grabbed Yamato by the shoulders and directed Yamato into the nearest chair.

The employee held the guitar out to Yamato, who just stared at it blankly.

"How am I supposed to hold it?"

Taichi laughed a little, hiding his face in his hands, and the employee grinned widely, apparently rather amused by Yamato's nervous confusion.

"Hold this part in your left hand, and just let it rest in your lap," the employee said helpfully, carefully letting Yamato take the guitar from him as he gave more directions. "Don't hold it too tightly, though. Yeah, that's good. Now press your finger… no, wrong finger. Press this finger – this finger – against this string, and… no, look where I'm pointing, _that_ finger. No you'll have to-"

"Yamato," Taichi said firmly, setting the bags he still held in his hand down and moving around behind the chair, "if I can do this, then you can. It's not as hard as you're making it."

Taichi slid his arms around Yamato's and directed his hands to the right spots. "Open your palms flat against mine and I'll show you what to do."

Yamato nodded slightly, letting Taichi guide his fingers over the strings. He was again filled with delight whenever Taichi showed him how to pluck the strings to get the right sound and how to tune the guitar, every now and then asking the employee if he was right and getting approving nods. Within a few minutes Taichi let go of his hands and let him try things on his own.

"You like the way that feels?" the employee inquired, pulling up a chair and sitting in front of him.

"It's a little… awkward," Yamato admitted.

"Awkward? Can you tell me why?"

"Well, my right hand isn't as strong as my left," Yamato said, glaring at the mentioned hand accusingly.

"Oh, I bet you're left-handed, aren't you?" the employee said, comprehension dawning on him.

"Yes. Does that make a difference?" Yamato asked, confused.

"Does it make a difference which hand you write with?" Taichi countered, leaning against the back of Yamato's chair.

"Well, yeah, it does." Yamato tilted his head back to look at Taichi. "I guess I didn't think about that. Can I just flip the guitar over then?"

"On some guitars it doesn't matter, but this isn't one of them," the employee said, grabbing Yamato's attention again. "Let me get you a left-handed guitar, and we'll see how you do with that one."

Yamato handed the guitar back to the employee a bit reluctantly, plucking a string just once before the guitar was taken to its place on the wall. While the employee searched for a left-handed guitar, Taichi dropped into the chair he had pulled up, flashing Yamato a quick smile.

"See? It's not that hard," Taichi teased. "You were doing better just now than I did when I first tried, and I was using the right hand. I mean, you were doing better when you had your hands in the right places."

Yamato shrugged. "I'm usually pretty good with my hands."

"Well… your hands make you seem graceful," Taichi said, grinning playfully at Yamato. "Your feet, however… that's a different story."

A glare was all Yamato could give in response before the employee returned, kicking Taichi out of his chair and handing Yamato the guitar.

"This one should be a little more natural to you. Yeah, just twist that… Good, now test a chord," the employee directed, impressed by how fast Yamato was learning. He grinned when Yamato looked up at him for more instructions. "You should take lessons."

"I…" For a moment, Yamato wanted to ask where to sign up, but then his eyes dropped to the floor and he blushed lightly. "I don't have the time. Besides, I would probably drive the instructor crazy."

"No, Taichi-kun drives him crazy. You would be a dream," the employee whispered loudly behind his hand, laughing when Taichi mumbled something under his breath.

"Yeah, yeah, I know I'm bad. You don't have to rub it in," Taichi said louder, giving the employee a good swat on the back of the head. He walked around to Yamato's side, gently laying a hand on his shoulder. "I'll be back in a moment, okay? You stay here and play a little more."

Yamato nodded and Taichi, with one last glare directed toward the employee, left. Yamato played three soft notes, his eyes finally roaming over the guitar in his hands. It was beautiful, in his opinion. Black with a deep shade of violet… the instrument was downright lovely.

"I'll go get you a headset so you can listen to yourself play without worrying about everyone hearing you, okay?" the employee said, rising from his chair. He disappeared for a moment, but came back with some headphones and a small piece of paper in his hands. He handed the paper to Yamato before he began connecting the headphones to the guitar. "That's the place my friends and I practice at. You should come by sometime to sit in and listen. Hearing all the music together might make you a little more interested in taking lessons."

An address, three days, and some times were written on the paper, and Yamato looked over them curiously. It _would_ be fun to see what could be done on the guitars, but… "Thank you for going out of your way, but I doubt I'd be able to go. I don't have much free time."

"Just consider it. You can," the employee smirked, "bring Taichi with you, too."

Flashing a mischievous grin, he clipped the headphones over Yamato's ears, chuckling lightly at the slightly confused expression that graced Yamato's face, and walked off, leaving Yamato to do as he pleased.

After fixing the headphones so they did not catch his hair, Yamato re-positioned the guitar in his lap and started to play the few notes he had learned earlier. He combined them into a short melody, and then began trying different notes, attaching the ones that sounded good to his simple song. His fingers slid easily over the strings.

"_You're so graceful sometimes that you make me feel like a hulking brute._"

Yamato smirked upon remembering Akira's words. _Graceful, huh? Taichi thinks my hands are graceful, but I bet that doesn't count_.

Glancing down at his hands, a sudden shiver ran through Yamato and he had the urge to wash them. Taichi had distracted him earlier, but now the dirty feeling that bothered Yamato so much returned, along with a nauseous twisting in his stomach. Swallowing uneasily, Yamato tried to shake the feeling, and started to play guitar once more.

It was a little while later, when he was imitating one of his favorite songs as best he could, that he felt someone pulling the headphones down so they hung around his neck. A small, plastic bag dangled in front of his face, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Taichi standing behind him, grinning.

"Didn't startle you, did I?" Taichi asked, handing the bag of candy to Yamato.

"You always appear out of nowhere. I'm getting used to it," Yamato replied distractedly. He was too busy studying the contents of the bag. "I thought we were going to go by the candy shop on the way out."

"Well… We're about to be on our way out and I thought you would like a little more time in here," Taichi explained with a shrug. He helped Yamato remove the headphones and held the guitar while Yamato stood. "I hope you like what's in there," he said, gesturing to the candy. "I got a little of everything."

Yamato leaned over to pick up the rest of their stuff that still sat on the floor. "Actually, I'm not much for sweets, but my father would probably appreciate it."

"As long as it is put to good use," Taichi said. He set the guitar down carefully on the chair Yamato had been sitting in. He checked to make sure they had gotten everything that was theirs before motioning for Yamato to follow him out.

"Why are we leaving so soon?" Yamato asked, a bit disappointed.

"I told my mom that I'd be back early today, and I have just enough time to take you home, run to a friend's to get some stuff, and get back home in time for what's considered, by her, to be early," Taichi said with a sigh. "Sorry to cut out so quickly. You could actually stay longer if you wanted."

"No, I don't like crowded places unless I have someone with me," Yamato said, tossing hair out of his eyes. "You don't _have_ to take me home, you know. I can go by myself. That would get you home faster."

Taichi shrugged. "You're on the way to my friend's house anyway. It's not a big detour."

--

"I still can't believe you bought me those coats."

Yamato stepped off the elevator, digging in his pocket for his keys with one hand and taking the shopping bags from Taichi with the other, his voice echoing faintly into the empty hallway. Despite that it was indoors, the hallway was quite cold, though not nearly as cold as the bus had been or like it was outside. Still, it made Yamato shiver.

"You could have gotten something _you_ wanted instead of buying _me_ something," Yamato said, their footsteps the only other sound in the hallway.

"Most of the things I want I can't buy with money anyway," Taichi answered, entertained by the annoyed expressions that were passing over Yamato's face as he searched for his keys.

"Oh? I always thought they sold combs brushes at department stores," Yamato taunted. His fingers brushed against cold metal and he pulled out his keys, glaring at them.

Taichi's hands flew to his hair. "Hey! That was uncalled for. Just because I'm not a nit picky perfectionist…"

"I'm not a perfectionist," Yamato snapped good-naturedly, giving Taichi a playful shove. He slipped the key into the lock and began to twist, grabbing the door handle and pushing up. Catching Taichi's puzzled expression, he mumbled, "Sometimes the lock sticks."

"Maybe you should-"

"I know what I'm doing." Yamato swatted at Taichi's hand, which was on its way to take the key from him. He set his bags on the floor before trying again, this time pressing a little harder on the door. "So, what is it that you want that you can't buy with money?"

"Oh, you know," Taichi said, sighing and leaning against the wall beside Yamato's door. "Things about my personality, mostly. My sister says I can get too loud and obnoxious, my mother says I never do anything useful, and my father says I never take anything seriously. I'd like to be able to change those things. And if I could buy my way out of my fears, then I would want to."

"You want to be quiet, useful, serious, and not be afraid of things? Those are pretty good wants, I guess. Stupid door," Yamato grunted, kicking the base of the door spitefully. He was about to shove his body against the door, but an arm slipped around his waist and he felt Taichi's warm breath tickling his ear. He froze.

"Most of all, Yamato-kun, I want _you_," Taichi said softly. When Yamato turned his head to look back at him, he leaned closer and brushed a gentle kiss over Yamato's mouth, simultaneously reaching with one hand to twist the key that was still in the lock even though Yamato's hands had both fallen to Taichi's arm around his waist.

The door lock clicked and Taichi took the key out, pulling away from Yamato. Yamato slowly turned around to face Taichi, his eyes first on the ground but gradually lifting to meet Taichi's soft stare. Taichi picked up the shopping bags from the floor, and then took one of Yamato's hands delicately in his own, dropping both the bag's straps and the key in said hand, his eyes never leaving Yamato's.

"I'll see you at school on Monday," he said quietly, and leaned in to give Yamato another gentle, short kiss before he began to walk toward the elevator, grinning madly as soon as his back was to the still surprised Yamato.

Yamato watched Taichi walk to and get in the elevator at the end of the hallway, blushing when Taichi gave him a wink just before the doors closed. He numbly turned to open his front door, stepping inside and dropping the bags wherever. He leaned against the door to close it, still somewhat in shock.

A small smile crept its way to Yamato's face, and he found himself wanting to giggle insanely. He felt warm and wanted to run through the apartment cheering. But then, a face made its way to his mind and he abruptly remembered why that would _not_ be a very good thing to do, his smile fading into a small sigh, his eyes dropping to the floor to stare at his shoes.

"Damn."

-

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Again, please excuse the amount of time it takes for me to get these chapters out. Now that school has been released, I should have more time, hopefully.

And remember, everything that happened in this chapter happened for a reason. Well, most everything.


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